THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE:

THE AFTERMATH

Part III of III

At 11:10 a.m., on October 25, 1854, the almost seven hundred men of the Light Brigade began their advance through “the valley of death.” Their bravery in the face of the enemy and death itself fired up the British public. England’s poet laureate was inspired to write “The Charge of the Light Brigade.” Children memorized it in school. But the Light Brigade’s twenty minute ride into almost certain death was the result of blunders made by their officers and “who killed the Light Brigade” was now the question that needed to be answered.

It took three weeks for the dispatches relating to the Light Brigade charge to get back to England. The newspaper account, written by William Russell, the Crimean war correspondent for The Times appeared on November 14, 1854. Shortly after reading it, Poet Laureate, Alfred, Lord Tennyson wrote the poem “The Charge of the Light Brigade.” Its first publication was in The Examiner on December 9, 1854.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

The Charge Of The Light Brigade
by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Memorializing Events in the Battle of Balaclava, October 25, 1854
Written 1854

Half a league half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred:
‘Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns’ he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

‘Forward, the Light Brigade!’
Was there a man dismay’d ?
Not tho’ the soldier knew
Some one had blunder’d:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do & die,
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley’d & thunder’d;
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flash’d all their sabres bare,
Flash’d as they turn’d in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army while
All the world wonder’d:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro’ the line they broke;
Cossack & Russian
Reel’d from the sabre-stroke,
Shatter’d & sunder’d.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley’d and thunder’d;
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
While horse & hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro’ the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder’d.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!

The Charge of the Light Brigade was not the wildness of drunks or lunatics, but of men who, while held in check by both Lord Cardigan and their own discipline, had at the same time passed beyond orders that made sense, and perhaps beyond sense itself…The magnificence was in the display of this will to charge that set men free from fear of the enemy, the guns and even death itself.

PLACING THE BLAME

The generally accepted total number of officers and men who took part in the charge is 664. However, a more accurate number made by Brighton is 666.

Killed outright or died of their wounds 110
Wounded and returned to lines: 129
Wounded and taken prisoner 32
Total killed and wounded: 271

The number of horses killed is considerably higher. Lord Paget recorded 332 horses killed in the charge and a further 43 were shot for their wounds upon their return to the lines.

Because of the errors in judgment made by their officers, 271 men were killed or wounded and 375 horses were lost. The search began to find the person or persons responsible. Historical accounts narrowed it down to four men: Lord Raglan, who gave the order orally to General Airey, who wrote it down; Captain Nolan, who delivered the order to Lucan; Lord Lucan, in command of the Cavalry Division, who passed on the order orally to Cardigan; Lord Cardigan, in command of the Light Brigade, who led the charge.

Each of the surviving officers blamed one another both up and down the chain of command. Instead of examining the mistakes that each made, Lord George Paget suggested an examination should be conducted to reveal who could have identified the wrong and then failed to act on it:

Who lost the Light Brigade? It was determined that all three officers contributed to a series of fundamental errors.

But if we ask (with Paget) which of them could by virtue of his rank and position have the ability to perceive and prevent the terrible direction those errors were taking, that officer can only be Lord Lucan.

Apparently the official inquiry agreed.

The Duke of Newcastle wrote to Raglan on January 27th, 1855: Inform Lord Lucan that he should resign command of the Cavalry Division and return to England.” The official reason was the relationship between Raglan and Lucan had broken down and therefore Lucan could not properly carry out his duties. There was more to it than that as The Times of March 9 expressed in its verdict on Lord Lucan. “It is not fitting that officers so little gifted with the powers of understanding or executing orders should be entrusted with the lives of men or the honor of nations.”

Lord Cardigan was absolved of all blame.

We can conclude that Lord Cardigan has no case to answer, and that the fault for the loss of the Light Brigade must be shared between their lordships Raglan and Lucan and Captain Nolan – but the greatest part of it lies with Lord Lucan.

EVALUATING THE SUCCESS OF THE CHARGE

Whether we call the Charge of the Light Brigade a success or defeat is determined by the criteria we use. If we judge the charge in terms of the intended objective of the original order from Lord Raglan, it was a failure. The Light Brigade did not prevent the Russians from carrying away the guns at the Heights. If we look at it from the objective of taking the guns to the front of them, it was an astounding success.

THE PLIGHT OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE VETERANS

The suffering of the Light Brigade veterans did not end on October 25, 1854. While the nation’s schoolchildren learned to “honor the charge they made” by rote, a public appeal for funds to assist the veterans raised a mere twenty-four pounds. When he returned from serving in the American Civil War, Private John Richardson, 11th Hussars, could not find any work and ended up in a Cheetham workhouse, a poorhouse in which the able residents had to work. Other veterans of the Charge were also experiencing the same plight. When interviewed by Spy a popular penny newspaper, Richardson stated that Lord Cardigan made a promise to the survivors of the charge concerning the future. “He said it was certain the every man who rode in the Charge would be provided for.”

In his poem, “The Last of the Light Brigade,” Kipling imagines these impoverished veterans of the Light Brigade Charge visiting Tennyson with a request that he complete his story by telling all England of their present state. Rudyard Kipling was one of Robert E. Howard’s favorite poets and it’s easy to see as you read this poem.  Kipling’s words on behalf of these last twenty men of the Brigade are as sharp and painful as the knives and swords these men wielded on October 25, 1854. Of special note is Kipling’s play on the word “charge” in the last line.

Rudyard Kipling

THE LAST OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE

There were thirty million English who talked of England’s might,
There were twenty broken troopers who lacked a bed for the night.
They had neither food nor money, they had neither service nor trade;
They were only shiftless soldiers, the last of the Light Brigade.

They felt that life was fleeting; they knew not that art was long,
That though they were dying of famine, they lived in deathless song.
They asked for a little money to keep the wolf from the door;
And the thirty million English sent twenty pounds and four!

They laid their heads together that were scarred and lined and grey;
Keen were the Russian sabres, but want was keener than thbey;
And an old Troop-Sergeant muttered, “Let us go to the man who writes
The things on Balaclava the kiddies at school recites.”

They went without bands or colours, a regiment ten-file strong,
To look for the Master-singer who had crowned them all in his song;
And, waiting his servant’s order, by the garden gate they stayed,
A desolate little cluster, the last of the Light Brigade.

They strove to stand to attention, to straighten the toil-bowed back;
They drilled on an empty stomach, the loose-knit files fell slack;
With stooping of weary shoulders, in garments tattered and frayed,
They shambled into his presence, the last of the Light Brigade.

The old Troop-Sergeant was spokesman, and “Beggin’ your pardon,” he said,
“You wrote o’ the Light Brigade, sir. Here’s all that isn’t dead.
An’ it’s all come true what you wrote, sir, regardin’ the mouth of hell;
For we’re all of us nigh to the workhouse, an, we thought we’d call an’ tell.

“No, thank you, we don’t want food, sir; but couldn’t you take an’ write
A sort of ‘to be continued’ and ‘see next page’ o’ the fight?
We think that someone has blundered, an’ couldn’t you tell ‘em how?
You wrote we were heroes once, sir. Please, write we are starving now.”

The poor little army departed, limping and lean and forlorn.
And the heart of the Master-singer grew hot with “the scorn of scorn.”
And he wrote for them wonderful verses that swept the land like flame,
Till the fatted souls of the English were scourged with the thing called Shame.

O thirty million English that babble of England’s might,
Behold there are twenty heroes who lack their food to-night;
Our children’s children are lisping to “honour the charge they made-”
And we leave to the streets and the workhouse the charge of the Light Brigade!

– Rudyard Kipling